David Zindell: Lord of Lies

My grandmother, as if explaining to Master Juwain and Maram some thing that she thought it was time for them to know, smiled sadly and said, 'It was this way with Valashu from his first breath: it was as if he were breathing in all the pain in the world. It was why, at first, he failed to quicken and almost died.'

For what seemed an hour, I sat next to her in silence holding her hand in mine. And then, to Master Juwain and Maram, to me — to the whole world — she cried out: 'He's my grandson and has the heart of an angel — shouldn't this be enough?'

My gift, this mysterious soul force within me, had a name, an ancient name, and that was valarda. I remembered that this meant the 'heart of the stars.'

As Master Juwain looked down at the two parchments, and Maram's soft, brown eyes searched in mine, 1 kissed my grandmother's fore head, then excused myself. 1 stood up and moved over to the open window. The warm wind brought the smell of pine trees and earth into the room. It called me to remember who I really was. And that could not be, I thought, the Maitreya, Was I a great healer? No, I was a knight of the sword, a great slayer of men. Who knew as well as I did the realm of death where I had sent so many? In the last moment of life, each of my enemies had grasped at me and pulled.me down toward that lightless land. I remembered li nes of the poem that had tormented me since the day I had killed Morjin's assassin in the woods below the castle:

The stealing of the gold,

The evil knife, the cold -

The cold that freezes breath,

The nothingness of death.

And down into the dark,

No eyes, no lips, no spark

The dying of the light,

The neverness of night.

Even now, in the warmth of a fine spring day I felt this everlasting cold chilling my limbs and filling me with dread. The night that knows no end called to me, even as the voices of the dead carried along the wind. They spoke to me in grave tones, telling me that I waited to be one of them — and that I could not be the Shining One, for he was of the sun and earth and all the things of life. A deeper voice, like the fire of the far-off stars, whispered this inside me, too. I did not listen. For just then, with my quick breath burning my lips and Telshar's diamond peak so beautiful against the sky, I recalled the words to another poem, about the Maitreya:

To mortal men on planets bound

Who dream and die on darkened ground,

To bold and bright Valari knights

Who cross the starry heavens' heights,

To all: immortal Elijin

As well the quenchless Galadin,

He brings the light that slays the Lie:

The light of love makes death to die.

'"It is saidthat the Maitreya shall have eternal life",' I whispered, quoting from the Book of Ages of the Saganom Elu.

It was also said that he would show this way to others. How else, I wondered, did men gain the long lives of the Star People and learn to sail the glittering heavens? And how did the Star People advance to the order of the immortal Elijin, and the Elijin become the great Galadin, they who could not be killed or harmed in any way? Men called these beings angels, but they were of flesh and blood — and perhaps something more. Once, in the depths of the black mountain called Skartaru, I had seen a great Elijin lord unveiled in all his glory. Had the hand of a Maitreya once touched him and passed on the inex tinguishable flame?

Master Juwain stood up and came over to me, laying his hand my arm, I turned to him and asked, 'If I were the Maitreya, wouldn't I know this?'

He smiled as he hefted his copy of the Saganom Elu and began thumbing through its pages. Whether by chance or intuition, he came upon words that were close to the questioning of my heart:

The Shining One

In innocence sleeps

Inside his heart

Angel fire sleeps

And when he wakes

The fire leaps

About the Maitreya

One thing is known:

That to himself

He always is known

When the moment comes

To claim the Lightstone.

'But that's just it, sir,' I said to him. 'I don't know this .'

He closed his book and looked deep into my eyes. He said, 'In you, Val, there is such a fire. And such an innocence that you've never seen it.'

'But, sir, I-'

'I think we do know,' he told me. 'The evidence is overwhelming. First, there is your horoscope, the Swan rising, which purifies — wasn't it only by purifying yourself that you were able to find the Lightstone And you are the seventh son of a king of the most noble and ancient line. And there is the mark.' He paused to touch the lightning bolt scar above my eye. 'The mark of Valoreth — the mark of the Galadin.' Just then a swirl of little, twinkling lights fell out of the air as of a storm of shooting stars. In its spiraling patterns were colors os silver, cerulean and scarlet. It hovered near my forehead as if studying the scar there. Joy and faith and other fiery emotions seemed to pour from its center in bursts of radiance. This strange being was one of the Timpum, and Maram had named him Flick. He had attached himself to me in a magical wood deep in the wild forest of Alonia. It was said that once, many ages ago, the bright Galadin had walked there, perhaps looking for the greatest and last of Ea's Maitreyas: the Cosmic Maitreya who might lead all the worlds across the stars into the Age of Light. It was also said that the Galadin had left part of their essence shimmering among the wood's flowers and great trees. Whatever the origins of the Timpum truly were, they did indeed seem to possess the fire of the angels.

'And of course,' Master Juwain said, pointing at the space above my forehead, 'there is Flick. Of all the Timpum, only he has ever made such friends with a man. And only he left the Lokilani's wood — to follow you.'

I looked over toward the tea table, where Maram sat squeezing my grandmother's hand. Then I turned back to Master Juwain and said, 'There is evidence, yes, but it's not known . . how the Maitreya will be known.'

'I believe,' Master Juwain said, 'that the Maitreya, alone of all those on earth, will have a true resonance with the Lightstone.'

'But how is this resonance o be accomplished?'

'That is one mystery I am trying to solve. As you must, too.'

'But when will I solve it?'

In answer, he pointed out the window at the clouds glowing with colors in the slanting rays of the sun. 'Soon, you will. This is the time, Valashu. The Golden Band grows stronger.'

As men such as he and I lived out our lives on far-flung worlds like Ea, the Star People built their great, glittering cities on other worlds closer to the center of the universe. And the Elijin walked on worlds closer still, while the Galadin — Ashtoreth and Valoreth and others — dwelled nearest the stellar heart, on Agathad, which they called Star Home. It was said that they made their abode by an ancient lake, the source of the great river, Ar. The lake was a perfect silver, like liquid silustria, and it reflected the image of the ageless astor tree, Irdrasil, that grew above it. Irdrasil's golden leaves never fell, and they shone even through the night.

For beyond Agathad, at the center of all things, lay Ninsun, a black and utter emptiness out of which eternally poured a brilliant and beau tiful light. It was the light of the Ieldra, beings of pure light who dwelled there. This numinous radiance streamed out like the rays of the sun toward all of creation. The Golden Band, it was called, and it fell most strongly on Agathad, there to touch all living things with a glory that never failed.